


The Power of a Photo

by ahhhhrexa



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Champions League, FC Barcelona, Freeform - I guess, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Manchester City, PepLucho, PepRique, Slash, The tunnel meeting, flirtation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhhrexa/pseuds/ahhhhrexa
Summary: A fic written after seeing Lucho's photos and the tunnel meeting between Pep and Lucho before the FC Barcelona vs Manchester City group stage match._____The little hum strikes again, the vibration is stronger, and he feels his leg warm to the disturbance. No longer able to ignore the persistent electronic and whomever is sending him a message, Pep pulls the phone his pocket. He taps the phone with his index finger and the name of who contacted him is none other than:Luis EnriquePep can’t keep the smile from forming on his lips when he reads his former teammate’s name. He rubs his fingers over the name on the screen fondly as he reminisces over their time together as teammates, enjoying the same successes and suffering the same defeats. Those were good days, days he sometimes longs to get back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OH MAN THOSE PHOTOS OF LUCHO WERE DIVINE LIKE I WAS SHOOK  
> ALSO THAT TUNNEL MEETING BETWEEN THEM MY GOSH THE HEART EYES ON BOTH OF THEIR FACES.   
> Hope you enjoy this short and sweet fic!

Buzz.

 

Buzz.

 

A soft hum sounds out, invading his ears with light tones of a Catalan orchestra, Pep glances down at his jeans where his phone is vibrating once, twice, three times. He lightly slaps down on the phone to make the vibration stop. He bends his head from side to side, trying to get the kinks out of it from sitting upright for so long.

 

He’s sitting down near the desk that he moved from the wall, arranging it so it could be in the middle of the room. Piles of paper and photos are on top of the desk, nothing was in order, just scattered around the flat surface after being studied closely. More paper lay on the floor, either crunched up or ripped apart. Upon the walls photos line up one after another showcasing possible formations that his opponent could use.

 

In front of him there are two televisions replaying two different matches from the same year – 2015. There’s the Champions League 2015 final on the flat screen to his right, two Catalan announcers speak commentary loudly and the chanting from the crowd is crystal clear. On the left screen, there plays the last time Manchester City, before he became their coach, up against FC Barcelona – the team he’s going up against in just a few hours.

 

He’s been in this makeshift office for hours now. As soon as the short training session ended, he quickly holed himself up in the hotel room so that he could prepare for the upcoming match. The hotel had been kind enough to lend a room for this sole purpose. He’s sure there was a bed somewhere in the room too. But he doubts that he’ll actually get some sleep.

 

The last time he came up against Barcelona didn’t go well for him. He recalls the roar of Camp Nou after Neymar scored the third goal. He sees the disappointed looks on the Bayern players after they won the match but lost the tie. He has a different team now, different players with different capabilities.

 

He needs to prepare.

 

The little hum strikes again, the vibration is stronger, and he feels his leg warm to the disturbance. No longer able to ignore the persistent electronic and whomever is sending him a message, Pep pulls the phone his pocket. He taps the phone with his index finger and the name of who contacted him is none other than:

 

Luis Enrique

 

Pep can’t keep the smile from forming on his lips when he reads his former teammate’s name. He rubs his fingers over the name on the screen fondly as he reminisces over their time together as teammates, enjoying the same successes and suffering the same defeats. Those were good days, days he sometimes longs to get back.

 

He unlocks the phone, more than a twinge of curiosity arises, and he wonders what his old friend has in store for him. He remembers the last time they had faced each other in the Champions League. Exactly the day before the match he had received a text from Lucho and in it was an old photo of them dressed in ridiculous late 80s/ early 90s outfits with outrageous hair. The photo nearly made him choke on the food he was eating during a break from his preparations.

 

Lucho had joked relentlessly about the hair and the shirt. He kept mentioning the necklaces being worn and how the conversation they were having if leaked to the press could cause a lot of mischief. Pep didn’t shy away from serving the man back with his own jokes after all it was only his right.

 

“What could it be this time?” Pep asks out loud to himself.

 

He hears the fondness in his voice and it makes his hand shake just a bit.

 

He clicks on the message.

 

\-----------

 

“I’m sure you appreciated those.” Lucho says, humor coloring his tone. It’s clear he’s trying to withhold his laugh. His voice slightly shakes as he continues, “I knew that you would like them.”

 

Pep has relocated from the temporary office space to the little bed that he had previously pushed aside. He’s lying down, legs crossed, still dressed in his training attire, and the laptop is lying on his lap. Phone resting on his left shoulder, head tilt to keep it in place, he looks at the three photos on the computer screen.

 

There’s no will in him to delete the email nor is there any desire to delete the tab or even shut down the computer altogether. He’s been staring at these photos for the past two hours. Even now, with Lucho on the phone, his focus continues to be on the bright photos, on the white background, at the dark locks, toward the lines of Lucho’s muscles.

 

“If this is your way of throwing me off.” Pep starts to say. He tries to contain the growing excitement in his voice, but fails. The heat in his cheeks has yet to fade either. He wonders if he’ll recover in time.

 

With the heat that lay in his loins, he is certain it won’t be anytime soon.

 

“It won’t work.” Pep finally says, trying to keep his tone neutral. Giving Lucho any hint that the photos got to him would be a mistake. His reaction could be used against him. Maybe during the game or after the game, it didn’t matter. It just would happen.

 

“You’re a horrible liar, Josep Guardiola.” Lucho replies, letting out a deep laugh in full force. Pep nearly breaks at the way Lucho says his full name. He wiggles the laptop off him to stop himself from overheating. “Don’t delete them, darling.”

 

The call ends.

 

Pep drops the phone and looks back at the photos.

 

How the hell did he let this happen?

 

\-----

 

Pep sees Lucho standing there in the tunnel. He grips the two water bottles in his hand a little tighter. He feels a bit hesitant because it has been months since they last saw each other. They each have gone through different things without one another. He almost makes a move to turn around, but Lucho turns and their eyes meet.

 

He looks around to see if anyone they both knew were watching like a board member or a one of the benched players, but only sees minor staff seemingly looking away on purpose and the cameraman filming them. He wants to ask about the photos, but he doesn’t. Lucho has already made a move to give him a slapping handshake or something along those lines.  
  
“Luis,” he says excitedly, glancing around a bit more. He wants there to be no extra eyes upon them. He didn’t want anyone of importance to the club or the media to see what he was truly feeling now finally within arm distance of Lucho. “Seeing you once again!” he exclaims as they go into each other’s arms.

 

“Always good to see you, Josep.” Lucho says. He slaps Pep’s back a couple of times as footballers are known to do. “Always good to see you,” he says calmly.

 

Pep doesn’t want the hug to end, but he knows it does. He pulls away, but is disappointed that Lucho pulls away too. He refuses to let it show on his face. There’s a camera around and he can’t let the other man know that he was gotten to. He couldn’t control the shivers going down his spine as his hand felt the back of Lucho’s neck and how he felt Lucho’s hand on his neck.

 

“You look well.” Pep finds himself saying with a wide smile on his face. He doesn’t fail to notice Lucho’s eyes going up and down his body, that grin on his face more deceptive in nature due to the camera watching them.

 

“You too,” Lucho says. Pep tries to shrug off the hand on his shoulder. The shivers are a little stronger now. Being here, in his home, with the man he’s always felt connected to have that effect.

 

“We should catch up after the game,” Lucho continues with a smug smile.

 

Pep tries to move further toward the pitch, but stops at the words. He can’t help but smile back. He doesn’t know what to do with his arms so he keeps them at his sides, almost standing at attention. He grips the bottles even tighter and tries to caution himself to not do anything rash.

 

Like go in for a kiss, he thinks. Pep isn’t sure where that thought came from. It’s always been there in the back of his mind, but never that loud. It’s never this loud.

 

Lucho seems insistent about something. He has that familiar look in his eyes beneath the apparent happiness at seeing him, a glint of mischief, of untold things that could make this anxious, nervous, seemingly excited part of Pep go wild.

 

“Perhaps the locker room.” Lucho suggests.

 

Pep feels a surge of heat go through him. A flash of memory of many evenings in the locker room together enters his mind. There’s one night where they just sat next to each other, shirtless, quiet, just there next to each other while others celebrated a win. Another night pops up where he’s lying on the floor and Lucho’s lying there next to him, it’s dark for some reason, their teammates are in the locker room still, but it’s like their alone and their hands – almost clasped together.

 

“Well?” Lucho asks, his hands go into his pockets and his smile gets wider. The brown of his eyes becomes lighter as more words escape his lips.

 

All Pep can do is laugh. He shrugs when Lucho touches his shoulder again. They turn together toward the pitch. He keeps a careful eye on Lucho and sees him mouth the words, “We’ll discuss the photos, no?” He laughs again, trying to be discreet, not willing to reveal to anyone in the public just what he was thinking.

 

“We’ll see how the game goes.” Pep says, laughing nervously as he gently pushes Lucho’s arm away from him.

 

“Hmm.” Lucho agrees.

 

Lucho’s hand doesn’t go back inside his pockets. Instead it strays downward, toward Pep’s bottom and Pep nearly loses it. If Lucho successfully touches him there, he knows he would panic or blush so uncontrollably anyone watching the video the camera catches will see him.

 

I won’t let them see me flirt with you, he thinks stubbornly. He knows Lucho doesn’t care what other people think. He doesn’t either as least that’s what he tells himself. Besides where would the flirting go? They’ve flirted with each other many times before, but never under these circumstances. Pep couldn’t help but find it quiet nerve racking.

 

The hand is dangerous close to his bottom. Pep laughs it off and grabs Lucho’s hand. A spark happens! It must be a spark because suddenly Pep is shaken. He can’t really turn back now. It’s on film now, Lucho has held his hand back, this was happening whether he intended for it to happen or not.

 

They walk like this to the very edge of the tunnel. It feels a bit nice really even though he’s saying jokes now about the past and Lucho’s joking back. Lucho’s hands are coarse probably from all the bike riding and rock climbing that he likes to do. It energizes him holding Lucho’s hand. He almost doesn’t want to let go.

 

But Lucho let’s go. The almost easygoing face that he had falls completely once they hit the edge of the tunnel. He loosens his grip and pulls his whole body away. The roar of the crowd bombards them, as Lucho looks toward the Camp Nou faithful with eyes no longer holding any jokes, flirtations, or mischief. His eyes are serious now, determined, and deep in concentration.

 

Lucho walks out to a roar leaving Pep alone in the tunnel.

 

Pep wishes they were still sort of alone together. He still feels Lucho’s firm hand in his.

 

He quietly curses to himself as the images of the email that Lucho sent him last night flood his mind. Damnit, he thinks. For the second time in his managerial career, Lucho was able to fluster him.

 

\----

 

“I saw you glancing at me.” Lucho says with amusement as he lays kisses down Pep’s chest. He laughs loud. It’s warm to Pep’s ears. “Like a lovesick puppy or something.”  
  
Pep hisses at the cold fingertips that Lucho lies at his thighs. He feels the burning sensation go through him at each kiss. He wants to rise up and flip the man over, take control and have his way. It would be nice. He doesn’t though because that wasn’t what the night called for.

 

“It’s your fault.” Pep ends up saying back. There is no venom in his tone, no real annoyance, just acceptance at the situation. This is what he has been waiting for the past few months. Even more since ever since he received those beautiful photos. He couldn't remain unaffected. 

 

Lucho stops kissing his chest and brings himself up so his face could hang just above Pep’s. His eyes change from their defiance of sort and into that familiar mischief. He tilts his head almost in question and asks, “My fault?”

 

Pep thinks about the game just for the second. He thinks about how much of a mess it was. He thinks about the hat trick Messi scored, the red card Bravo received, the injuries on both side, and the roar of the cules. He thinks about how he couldn’t refrain from looking to his left to see Lucho. He couldn’t help imagining this moment and how good it would feel. He thinks about how he thought a bit too much about Lucho during the game and maybe that affected the out-

 

“Blame me all you want.” Lucho interrupts his thoughts with a low tone. His hot breath smacks Pep in the face, enticing more heat to fill Pep’s body. “I sent you those photos because I knew you would savor them.” He made sure to emphasize the word savor. Lucho continues, “Blame me for playing the game right all you want.” He gives Pep a gentle, loving kiss on the lips. He laughs after pulling away and hearing Pep moan.

 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I won.”  
  
Pep considers arguing for a moment. He has enough witty words to throw back that went against Lucho’s reasoning. He weakly responds, “I send you nudes if we face each other in tie.” He offers a laugh. “Maybe before our second match of the group stages.”  
  
Lucho eyes widen. He licks his lips and replies, “Please do.”  
  
Pep rolls his eyes. How typical was it that one thing could throw him off his game, but if he decided to do the same thing to Lucho it would have no effect! Maybe he should say something else. That could be a good idea. He loves bantering with Lucho.

 

That’s not what he does though.

 

He grabs Lucho’s face firmly and thrust his hips upward which makes Lucho let out a moan. Their lips connected, tongues fighting the other, lips almost crashing and their heartbeats erratic.

 

It didn’t matter in all honesty. He doesn’t bother to think whether Lucho was talking about just the game or that he was also talking about their relationship. He isn’t going to mull over how those photos disturbed the groove he had going into the game. The loss sucks of course, but he was here with Lucho.

 

That feels good.

 

Yeah I’ll send him my nudes, he thinks. 

 

He bucks his hips at Lucho's touch. Desire grows stronger within him.

 

Photos are a powerful thing, he thinks before his minds falls into ecstasy.

**Author's Note:**

> If you need links to what I mentioned in my first note, let me know.  
> Hope you all enjoy. This is one of many Pep/Lucho fics I have written, one of many about this certain incident, and one of many fics I've written thanks to the gold that was the recent UCL match between FCB and MCFC.   
> Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
